I thought I would grow out of it.

A few months ago I was walking with my sister, brother-in-law and BF to dinner. It was dark but there was plenty of street light. On paved roads. And still I managed to injure myself by walking at a stroll. I stubbed my toe big time. I mean, when it jammed into the crack in the sidewalk I felt the pain jolt through my entire foot, up my leg and into my spine where it exploded into my skull. It was the kind of reaction that warranted a few expletives (yet I refrained).

4 weeks later the pain subsided enough for me to start running again, but every once in awhile if I turn on my toe the wrong way, I feel a tinge. I may have fractured it without knowing but I didn't think about getting it looked at until 4 weeks later when it was finally back to normal.

This weekend I went on a very casual stroll with 2 girlfriends. We made our way to the beach and conquered a hillside of sandy stairs to get there. It was the kind of thing were I imagined my friend who was pregnant taking a spill and how careful "she" needed to be. Um yeah.

So we all make it down to the end of the stairs without any accidental slips and plant ourselves on the rocks and watch the waves. I make a mental note that my flip flops don't have the most traction in the world so I choose my steps carefully and pause on the flattest rock possible. (and I mean the flattest). 5 full seconds tick by as the 3 of us standing completely still gaze at the water and suddenly I lost my footing. I mean, I was STANDING STILL! The sand on the rock shifted a little, I distributed my weight to try to get a better footing and BANG! I hit the ground. On my ankle. I heard and felt a very dull crack but it didn't hurt- I was more embarrassed at the spectacle I'd created and noticed both my girlfriends looking at me like I was insane for suddenly slipping for no apparent reason.

Two days later and it's still a little swollen and throbbing. I think it may be sprained. So here I am-- waiting another several weeks for an injury to heal in order to start running again.

I have always been a clutz. It's why I am weary of playing any kind of sports that involve flying balls and/or contact. Or choreography. I have a few scars to prove it, and this weird blood-dot "tattoo" on my left hand that resulted after I fell on my wrist while trying break my fall during a sunrise hike in Figi.

But seriously? I thought that I would have gotten the hang of taking a moonlight stroll by now.

Or standing in one place.